


Galra Support Group

by AMonsterCalls (orphan_account), H_Faith_Marr



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Child Death, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Original Character-centric, Space Uncle Coran (Voltron), Supportive Coran (Voltron), Teacher Coran (Voltron), Why do you do this to yourself Dhex, mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 11:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/AMonsterCalls, https://archiveofourown.org/users/H_Faith_Marr/pseuds/H_Faith_Marr
Summary: Dhex is a veteran of the Galra Empire, and is struggling with the mindset that he can never be forgiven, that he can never forgive himself. A talk with a well-known ginger moustached altean gives him what he needs to move on.Takes place after the last season of Voltron.(Made by AMonsterCalls. She umm closed her account but still wants to submit fanfiction but doesn't want to make a new account so... I'm letting her post it on mine. Our friendship is weird. Don't question it. Please give this one a try anyway, even if I wasn't the one who wrote it)





	Galra Support Group

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!! This is yo monster. Sorry for getting your hopes up that Marr posted something but then let you down when it was, in fact, me. I am a terrible person. Forgive me.
> 
> WElp. Without further ado, hope you enjoy!

** _Prelude_ **

Molina was a galra, simple as that. When her Empire fell to the Paladins of Voltron and the traitorous Blades of Marmora, she was _just_ barely finishing up her training to be an imperial soldier. It was soul-crushing, realizing that the one thing she’d been building up to be was now unavailable, that she would never live up to her parents’ expectations, that the Empire that she had grown to respect was no longer a thing to be feared. 

What was humiliating, too, was the fact that she had cried when she had heard the news. A galra should never cry. But, then again, it had been so _frustrating_, knowing that she would have to start over, find a new goal in life, now that her previous one remained unachieved. Her only wish, dashed into the dust. And for what? The confusing, unreliable concept of ‘peace’? Peace didn't last, power was the important thing. Who was on top. For a time, it had been the galra, but despite their struggles, that didn't last either. 

What, then, _did_ last? She hadn't the faintest clue. 

_So_, she thought, _what’s done is done. No point in worrying over it, or resenting the paladins for being the stronger of two forces. No point at all._

A part of her even felt sorry for the harm the galra had caused over the centuries. Some of the recent harms she had aided in, without any guilt at the time, but she now tried hard to forget. Not just the fully-trained soldiers did terrible things. All the galra reaped the harvest of their conquering, and nearly all of them had disabused their power over other races. 

Something inside her curdled at the thought. She was stained with innocent blood, and she hadn't even been a soldier yet. 

She prowled resolutely towards the barracks. She had someone she needed to talk to.

>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

** _To Begin..._ **

When Molina suggested a support group, Dhex had been unsure, to say the least. He had lived through-- had _done_ terrible things. How could he ever recover from that? Who could ever forgive him? How could _he_ ever forgive _himself_? 

Molina had been strangely adamant, insisting that they could both be forgiven for their crimes, however terrible they had been. He had reluctantly agree to attend at least one session, while secretly cherishing her innocence, her naivety. She was only barely out of kit hood, had hardly done any harm to another. He, in stark contrast, was grizzled and worldly, and had sent many souls to early rest. That wasn't even the worst of his offences. What would the Paladins, or even other _galra_, think, if they knew?

He trudged to the first meeting of this ‘support group’. They had never had such a thing in the Empire. Molina was in the lead, her slim ears straight and alert as she marched purposefully towards their destination. That was one thing that Dhex had always admired her for, ever since she was a pup. Whenever she did something, she did it with a steadfast determinedness that could not be swayed. 

They reached the room that had once been a training room, but had been reassigned to accommodate these sessions. There were several such small groups popping up across the universe, though the densest popularity of them were here, on Earth. They were organized by the Blades, of course, brought to life by the vision of their new leader, Keith, the Black Paladin, former Red Paladin. 

Dhex felt no animosity towards the Blades or Paladins, despite the troubles they had brought to his life. If anything, he felt a great relief. He would no longer be forced to do things he would regret, he would no longer bring harm to others. He could live a relatively peaceful life. He knew that the Empire had it coming, and he knew that it deserved to be brought low. More specifically, he knew that _he_ deserved to be brought low. While he had not been in Zarkon’s nor Honerva’s inner circles, he had been a formidable and cold-hearted general under their command. He was hated even by his own kind, _especially_ by his own kind-- and for good reason, too. He had not been a gentle nor forgiving general.

So, as he sat next to Molina, in a ragged chair circle amongst the galra, he was fairly certain that this was not going to end well. 

“Hello everyone,” said the only human in the room. He had shaggy black hair, violet eyes, and a violent scar from cheekbone to chin. The description matched suspiciously to what Dhex had heard of the Paladin Keith. But that wasn't plausible. Wasn't Keith supposed to be ten feet tall with a few dozen more decaphoebs on him? Dhex shook the thought from his mind. That was probably an exaggeration. His musings were confirmed when the human continued speaking. “My name is Keith. You may have heard of me.” He cast a small, wry smile to the circle. “Some of you may be wondering why I'm here. Simple fact is, I want to help. If you keep coming, you'll be seeing a lot of me. I do hope that you keep coming, but that's not my decision to make. It's yours.” His words were awkward, but confident. He was obviously not used to social situations, yet he was the Black Paladin, capable of adjusting to any challenge thrown his way. 

The group was silent. Some were resentful, some were disinterested, and some, a rare few, were hopeful in their own secret way.

Dhex sighed. This was going to be even worse than he'd thought.

Keith clapped his hands together in a final way. “Alright. Let's start. Anyone ready to share? It could be something little, if you want.”

No one piped up to his invitation.

Dhex let out an even heavier sigh. If no one spoke, this was going to get awkward real fast. He surprised himself by saying, softly, “My worst regret has been the children on L’max,” He met the Paladin’s eyes. He could almost _feel_ Molina’s proud gaze. “Two, maybe three, decaphoebs ago, my squadron overtook the planet. I was the general of my fleet, and as such, I was responsible for anything and everything,” His ears drooped. Why hadn't he just kept his mouth shut? Well, it was too late to stop now. “So when an uprising occurred not soon after, I knew I had to do something, or I'd get demoted, or worse. Back then, I was little more than a vicious, single minded monster,” He spat the last word out as harshly as he dared. “And that monster decided that the best way to quiet the people was to threaten their children. But they wouldn't quiet. They said they'd rather their children die than be raised as the Galra’s slaves. I was cold when I ordered the children brought before me. There were thousands of them, and I killed each one without mirth nor guilt. It took hours, and hours more to clean their blood from my fur.”

Shock at the grim cruelty hushed the room.

He saw sadness in Keith's violet eyes, and he looked away before he could see the hatred. He knew that what he had done would plague him forever, and that story was only the first of many regrets. “My name is Dhex, I did not come here today to ask forgiveness, because I know I don't deserve it. I am galra… but not only that, I am weak. I let my fear take hold and shape who I was, and who I wished to be, into something hideous and gruesome.” He glanced around the room, elbows on his knees. “My singular hope for our race is that our children will not grow to become like what I have been conditioned to be.”

After that admission, he had expected antagonism, but instead, Keith responded to it in understanding tones. “And that's why you're here, is to deal with your past so you can help tomorrow run its course. You can be better than you were, Dhex. I, for one, will be here to support you, and I hope that these others can do the same.”

There was hesitance in the circle, and Dhex couldn't blame them. “I doubt that I can ever get better,” he said, getting to his feet and stretching his arms in a catlike pose. “And I'm not going to waste your time when I know that that's the truth.” He saluted a slightly disgruntled Keith, shot an apologetic look to a disappointed and white-faced Molina. “Don't expect to see me here again.” Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the room, tail limp with sorrow, guilt, and resignation.

_I'm sorry, Molina. There's just no hope for me._

He wandered the long hallways and passageways of the barracks for a while, then decided that he needed some fresh air. The dustiness of the indoors was getting to him. He could feel a long overdo panic attack rising in his throat. He choked it back, straightening his posture and quickening his pace. He refused to bow to weakness. It had overcome him too many times of late. Too many times entirely.

He ran a hand over his face, letting out a long, shaky breath. He should never have agreed to that silly venture. He hadn't even lasted a quarter of an hour. Once again, he sent a silent apology Molina’s way. In the phoebs they had known each other, this was the first request she had asked of him, and he had ran away like a scared child.

_Maybe I_ am _scared_, he pondered as he stepped into the crisp, mid morning air. He was unfamiliar with the feeling, always suppressing it when it arrived, since a galra should never be afraid. Yet, he wondered if that was what was causing the tightness in his chest, the spark in his bones. 

On further consideration, he determined that it was not, in fact, fear. More… a mixture of restlessness and confusion. He was so used to being on the move, carrying out an order, fighting for his life and for his rank. Now, all was still, and he didn't know what to do. It felt like he was still fighting. Still struggling to prove himself. But to whom?

He was so engrossed in his thoughts, that he did not notice the moustached altean until they collided, staggering back from each other to regain their balance. 

“Sorry, old boy, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going!” The altean said, recovering quickly. He twirled his orange moustache around one finger as his eyes twinkled in a somewhat mischievous way. “Hard to believe that I didn't notice a great hulking galra like you walking in my path, but no harm done, eh?” Oddly, he didn't seem the least bit menacing when he said that.

Dhex blinked, realizing that he had subconsciously shifted into a defensive stance. He allowed himself to relax. No point in antagonizing the altean. “I apologize. I was also not paying attention to my chosen path. I will be more vigilant in the future.”

Before he had even finished speaking, the orange-stached man was waving his words aside. “No harm done. No harm done.” He was repeating. He looked up slightly to meet Dhex’s yellow gaze, and, to his surprise, offered out a hand in a familiar human gesture. “The name’s Coran, and you are?”

The galra gazed down warily at the hand for a moment, then clasped it in a careful grip. “Dhex.” 

Coran pumped their entwined fists in a ‘hand shake’, as per human culture. This was their planet, after all. “A pleasure to meet you, Dhex. Where are you off to?”

He shrugged. “Just getting some fresh air.” He began walking again, side stepping to avoid the altean. “Good day to you.”

To his dismay, Coran fell into step beside him, continuing the conversation without paying mind to the way Dhex was clearly wanting to be alone. He was starting to get annoyed with this altean. “Oh really? I was doing the very same thing. I'm a sucker for a morning walk. My grandpappy always told me…” And how he _rambled_. Dhex just wanted some peace and quiet to sort through his thoughts, but apparently _not_.

After awhile of listening to Coran talking about his grandpappy and ‘the good old days’, Dhex zoned out and thought of his own family. He hoped that if there was, in fact, an afterlife, that they were doing well, and were content with their fate. He sighed internally. He would give anything to have them back, but that wasn't a reasonable wish, so he set it aside. No point in missing people who were not coming back. Unhealthy as it was, that was what had kept him alive for so long, so he kept to it. Instead, he thought of Molina. 

They had met seven or eight phoebs ago, if he recalled correctly. A movement before the Empire fell. She had been a stubborn spitfire, training harder than everyone else, moving faster and striking cleaner. He had been monitoring the potential recruits when he'd noticed her. Such spirit, such eagerness. Too eager, almost. She would overstep in her sword lessons, take too much time to aim in her gun training. He gave her direction in the best way he knew how. By demonstration. At this point in time, he had cooled from his bloodthirsty ways, and he was gentler in his instruction than he used to be. She left with few bruises, and a new determinedness in her step. 

That following movement, right up to that last battle, she trained with him, spoke with him, laughed with him. He softened towards her. When the Galra were declared defeated, they stuck together and grew even closer. She was like the daughter he had never had the chance to have.

But now, he failed her. Or, at least, he thought he did. In walking away from that room, he walked away from the man he could have been. He shook his head. That was the problem. He didn't think for a moment that he could ever be a better man. He was the Empire’s dog, and always would be. The Empire was gone. So what did that leave him? Just a dog, without its master, dangerous to everyone around him.

“Deep thoughts?”

He startled, looking down at Coran. He had totally forgotten the altean was walking beside him. “You could say that.”

Coran’s gaze turned serious, understanding, and concerned all in one. “Anything you need to get off your chest? You know, back on Altea, I used to be the King’s advisor.”

Dhex stopped in his tracks. This was _that_ Coran? The ten-thousand-decaphoebs-in-a-cryo-pod-Coran? The swashbuckler slash royal advisor Coran?

Coran faced him as a slightly manic expression crossed his face. He… had to get out of here. He mumbled as such to the altean, and, not even bothering with courtesy now, backed away. Coran would have none of it. “Nonsense! I'm sure whatever you're doing can wait a few moments for your health, can't it?”

“My _health_ is _fine_.” Dhex nearly growled. His thin tail dragged along the floor anxiously. Why hadn't he walked away yet? What was he waiting for, permission?

Coran raised his hand placatingly. “I'm sure it is. It's just I had assumed you would have trauma or regrets that you'd want to lift off your chest, but it's fine if you're not willing to share. No pressure intended.”

Dhex crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of a conveniently placed building. He took a deep breath. Why did all these people want to know about his life? He took another, deeper, calming breath. He didn't _deserve_ understanding, or forgiveness, or even for others to listen to him or speak to him. He was worse than a nobody. He was a beast, and it was only a matter of time before he snapped. 

Coran piped up quietly, carefully. “We could move to a room and sit down, if you need time. I could brew a pot of that hot beverage the humans call ‘tea’, and I'm pretty sure the Yellow Paladin left some chipotle chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard.”

As if he knew what in the name of Sa _cookies_ were.

Dhex sighed for the fourth? fifth? time that morning. He gave into the prompting of the orange haired altean, resigning himself to opening up again, and followed Coran to a cozy living room that was a fairly long walk from the barracks. 

Coran left him on a couch while he made ‘tea’ and fetched some ‘cookies’. Dhex shifted on the uncomfortably soft furniture, gazing around at the cluttered room. In the Empire, this kind of pleasure would be discouraged, and it would almost be illegal for that much decoration. He tried to imagine a world where _light blue_ was a socially acceptable colour, and couldn't. It was weirdly refreshing. Light blue. Who would have thought it? Dhex made a mental note to add more colour into his room. Currently, it was the standard black and purple, with purple lighting to match. But now that the Empire was finished, why not change things up a bit?

Coran came back with cups of steaming liquid and a plate of round treats, as promised. He sat down opposite of the galra, setting the tray on the table between them, and gestured dramatically for Dhex to take some. 

He did.

Half a cookie and five sips of silence was all Dhex needed to gather his thoughts. He set down the remaining half of the edible circle. It was really quite good. Then he took his sixth sip of the bitter-but-sweet liquid in his cup before setting it down. He met Coran’s gaze. He decided to summarize what was bothering him, instead of listing his regrets, “I was a general, both under Zarkon’s and Honerva’s command. I was efficiently cruel and cruelly efficient, the picture of the evil, heartless galra the universe takes us for.” He leaned back, ears twitching. “About two phoebs before the Empire crumbled, I came out of my bloodlust, came into the reality of my sins. But I didn't change my actions. Now, more than half a decaphoeb later, I cannot forgive myself for what I've done. My… daughter,” Dhex hesitated on the word, but it felt _right_, somehow. “Dragged me into attending one of those ‘support groups’ the Blades devised. I barely lasted five dobashes before I realized: this was never going to work. It's too late for me. I've done too much to ever be forgiven, or to ever forgive myself. I should be imprisoned, _punished_, but I haven't been. The Coalition decided to give me a second chance. _Me_, one of the Galra’s most hated generals, free to do as I wished? Given a _second chance_?” He shook his head incredulously. “I don't deserve it. I barely even deserve a quick execution. I… I don't understand. Why aren't I dead, or down a hole somewhere? I deserve to be put in my place, punished for my crimes, put away where I can do no more harm. Instead, there's a _second chance_? I've had plenty of chances, plenty of choices, and I've always chosen the wrong ones. But they… they just ignore that.” Dhex pat a shaky hand over one ear, trying to maintain his composure. For the first time in decaphoebs, it was hard not to break down. He slumped. “I don't understand it.” 

Throughout this, Coran had been silent, listening and nodding. Now, making sure that Dhex was finished, Coran spoke, “I think that that’s exactly the kind of thinking they’re trying to avoid. In garlan culture, mercy is a weakness, correct?” Dhex nodded slowly. “Well, for the Paladins of Voltron and most of the universe, mercy is a sign of honour. Understanding and forgiveness also. You asked why we don’t punish you for your actions. The fact is that in this war, we’ve done terrible things against the galra out of necessity. We can’t blame you for following orders and also doing terrible things also out of necessity. You’re already finding remorse without punishment, so why do we need to cause you more harm than we already have?”

Dhex laughed a hoarse laugh, similar to the ones he used to do in private, when he felt his brokenness prominently. “I can’t help but wonder how you beat the Empire, with morals like that.” He waved his sentence away. “Nevermind. I don’t think you get my point. I already know that the rest of my kind deserves redemption, for they were only following orders, as you said. But I… I’ve done worse than any could imagine, but not out of necessity. Only in part did I even do it because of orders. For the most part, I did it out of cruelty, for Sa’s sake! I don't deserve to walk freely!”

Coran leaned forward, eyes soft. “What do you want us to do? Punish you? Kill you? What do you think you ‘deserve’?”

Dhex had already answered those questions, so he stayed silent.

“You want to know what I think? I think that if you, or any of the other galra not directly instrumental in the rise of the Empire, were to be criminalized, than there would be no hope for the future. Your kind would be doomed. From what I know of the Paladins, and I know quite a bit, I doubt that that would ever be their intention. They defeated the Empire not just for the rest of the universe, but also for galra. You were affected by the Empire just as negatively as most of us.” Coran reasoned, “Almost more so, considering that Zarkon changed your entire culture and way of living into something that was violence and war driven. The only one we could ever blame for that is Zarkon, and later on Lotor and Honerva. Everyone else gets the same thing the winners get; a chance to live a violence-free life. Every crime you do hereafter, they will punish accordingly, but no one will be punishing you for things you now regret.”

Dhex thought about that, putting his face into his trembling hands to focus better on the matter at hand. Not to hide the dryness of his mouth or the wetness of his eyes, certainly not to hide how his heart was in his throat and his brain was tangled into a messy knot of confusion and indecision. No, he was thinking about whether or not he deserved (deserved, what an interesting, permanent, difficult word) to have a decent life. He was thinking about his failures, regrets, losses, commitments, broken oaths, unbroken oaths. If you weighed them against his successes, reliefs, gains, broken and unbroken oaths, the good would fall short of the bad. But is that even the point? Is that what determines if he could turn around? Does his past dictate his future?

The couch sunk slightly as Coran sat beside him. “Mind if I hug you, old boy?”

Dhex looked up in surprise. When was the last time someone had asked him, murderer and fourth ranking general of the Empire, for a hug? Scratch that. Dhex doubted that anyone that wasn’t galra had ever even _touched_ him in any way of compassion or sympathy.

He gave a hesitant shrug. “Go ahead.”

What a comical sight they would have made. A galra, taller and broader and stronger than most, with unshed tears in his eyes and his tail twitching anxiously, leaning slightly so that a neat old ginger-haired altean could sling an arm around his shoulder. A sight not seen for more than ten thousand years.

Eventually, Dhex got to his feet and thanked the altean for his advice and kind words, then parted ways. He walked back to the barracks, staring-- nay, _pondering_ at the setting sun.

He smiled.

He came to the next support group session. Molina was so happy.

>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<

** _To End..._ **

Molina was more than happy; she was _ecstatic_. From the moment she had met Dhex, he had been a father to her, someone to look up to and admire. Not to admire for his past, but for his character to live up to his mistakes, and to change them. That image had cracked a little when he had left the support group session, but seeing him now, coming back even after his refusal… that took guts. She was proud of him, to say the least.

An hour later, when the session was coming to a close, Molina was jitteriness with joy and suppressed nerves. While she loved having the chance to talk about her time with the Empire and working through her problems, she was also a high functioning person, and she needed to move _right now_. Maybe she wouldn't have been a good galra soldier after all. 

She tugged Dhex to standing. “C’mon, let's go for a walk. I want to get some of that ‘ice cream’ Crag’s been talking about.”

To her delight, Dhex agreed to the idea, and as she stalked along ahead of him, she thought, 

_I'm glad we met._

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment if you liked it! If you didn't, still leave a comment! Constructive criticism is what makes progress! Thank you for reading, and have a good rest of your day!


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